


You had me at ho, ho, ho

by alittlewicked



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Advent Calendar, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Christmas Feels, Christmas Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Idiots in Love, M/M, Only a little bit of angst though, because Bucky is a dumb idiot in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 19:40:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17189153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alittlewicked/pseuds/alittlewicked
Summary: It was once again a picture, titled: “I was dreaming of a white Christmas. And you.”Heart thumping heavily, Bucky tapped the screen to enlarge it. And softly whined to himself.There was Steve on his screen, bleary eyed and hair all mussed up from the fluffy white pillows around him. Blinking into the camera of his phone and smiling softly. Naked chest and strong biceps on display where the heavy duvet had slipped down to lay around his waist.***The one where Bucky and Steve are childhood best friends and maaaybe something more, but they never really had that relationship talk. And now Steve was away during the holiday season, leaving Bucky to miserably pine and whine over his messages from abroad. An Advent Calender Fic.





	You had me at ho, ho, ho

**Author's Note:**

  * For [crinklefries](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crinklefries/gifts).



> Dear [spacerenegades](spacerenegades.tumblr.com),  
> a happy holiday season to you and thank you for your amazing prompts! I chose "childhood bff to lover", "misunderstandings that result in fluff", and then "banter" became a "bad puns". I had a blast writing this and I hope you like it :)! 
> 
> P.S. I just saw that you wrote an epic coffee shop AU and I'm so... blooown away! I'll try to match up and follow this one up with a short Thor/Loki drabble in this setting as well as a thank you ;)!

 

** You had me at ho, ho, ho **

 

**December 24, Christmas Eve, Evening**

There were many things that Bucky had called Steve over the years. They had grown up together after all, being thick as thieves and the best of friends. And for the last ten years even something more by times.

So Bucky had used some expletives and also some compliments over the years. He could get very creative when in the mood. He had thrown them at Steve’s head, had whispered them under his breath when cuddled close to him, and sometimes he even groaned them against Steve’s lips with hands stuffed down pants.

Punk.

Jerk.

Selfless idiot without even a teeny-tiny tad of self-preservation in his big, dumb, muscled body.

An incredible artist.

His best friend.

Love of his life. (Ok. That one he had only used in his head.)

But “reason for his untimely demise caused by a sudden re-distribution of blood in his body that deprived his brain of oxygen over an extended period of time which in turn resulted in just straight up checking out of this existence” was not something he had on that list previously.

And it was all Bucky’s own goddam fault.

He should have sat them down and made them discuss their relationship status. Make it Facebook official or something.

He should have done so after their first real kiss at 15. Or after they slept together for the first time at 16. Or at 22 when they moved in together in a small and cozy flat in Brooklyn. Or at 25 when they fell into bed together every other day. Or at 27 when they apparently behaved “like the grossest couple ever” according to Loki.

He should have definitely done so before Steve left New York in October to make the rounds in Europe to make himself personally known in the art scene over there.

He really should have.

But more importantly, Bucky should have never doubted Steve.

 

*

 

**December 1**

When Bucky woke up late on Saturday morning, his mouth was dry like the desert and his head pounding to the beat of Shakira’s “Waka Waka”. So much for mission debrief after a night out with Loki. He would nurse this hangover from hell until Monday if the way he felt right now was any indication.

And it’s not like he didn’t know what he had to expect from a night of doing shots with one of his best friends. He and Loki had met in their freshman year at college and had drunk their way through every dive bar along both sides of the East River just to see if they could after all. Bucky knew such nights never ended well for him, his liver, and his health in general.

But had they secured a major distribution deal for their business this week and they deserved some celebratory drinks.

Also, Steve had been gone for two months now, touring European art fairs and galleries to break into the art scene across the pond. While strolling across French vineyards, enjoying Austrian kaiserschmarrn, and generally just having the time of his life. Without Bucky.

So maybe Bucky was sulking.

And drinking to forget that he was in fact sulking.

But Bucky missed him. Missed Steve like crazy.

And now it was December, holiday season. It was traditionally their time of the year: they would spent as much time as possible cuddled up together on their couch, watching Christmas movies, drinking hot chocolate, and wearing only Christmas sweaters for 25 days straight.

He couldn’t do a holiday season without Steve. He was going to become a Grinch.

It’s not like they haven’t spent time apart over the last twentysomething years that they had been friends. They did semesters abroad, internships in different cities, and generally were not glued together at the hips. But the last few years, they made a point of spending December together.

Because the holiday season was Bucky’s favorite time of the year. And Steve was right by his side, partaking in anything and everything Christmassy that Bucky came up with.

He would bet that Steve would also humor him and take part in the winter wedding that Bucky had been planning since that one special night not long after Steve’s sixteenth birthday. Just to see Bucky’s eyes shine and to hear his laugh.

So. Bucky missed his best friend.

And this is why he thought it a good idea to drown his sorrows in a bit of vodka. And a bit of gin. And then some tequila. There may have been some celebratory champagne as well because of that work thing.

In the light of day, that idea did not appear that good anymore.

Groaning, Bucky rolled over in bed and reached for his phone on the nightstand to sort through his notifications, automatically zeroing in on a picture that Steve had sent a few hours earlier while Bucky was still dead to the world.

The accompanying text message read: _“Ho, ho, holy shit it’s December 1st!”_

The picture showed some street, decked out in festive Christmas lights and decorations. Sparkling and blinking in the foggy, grey light of an early morning. Whatever European city Steve was in just now sure took their holiday spirit seriously.

Smiling to himself, Bucky put his phone back down on the nightstand. Sighing deeply. He grabbed one of his fluffy pillows and cuddled it close, thinking of Steve and imagining him being right here by his side before falling back asleep.

Their shared apartment had been decidedly too empty the last few weeks. Lacking the warmth only Steve could provide Bucky with.

 

*

 

**December 2**

On Sunday, Bucky had recuperated enough to treat himself to an extensive pancake-and-waffles-extravaganza for breakfast. Lunch. Something like that around midday, when his phone signaled a new message from Steve.

It was once again a picture, titled: _“I was dreaming of a white Christmas. And you.”_

Heart thumping heavily, Bucky tapped the screen to enlarge it. And softly whined to himself.

There was Steve on his screen, bleary eyed and hair all mussed up from the fluffy white pillows around him. Blinking into the camera of his phone and smiling softly. Naked chest and strong biceps on display where the heavy duvet had slipped down to lay around his waist.

What he wouldn’t give to be there and cuddle the big dork.

Fuck did he miss him.

 

*

 

**December 3**

When Bucky got ready for work Monday morning, he sent a picture of his outfit of the day to Steve and immediately got a reply: _“You’re dashing all the way!”_

Blushing, he pocketed his phone and went about his day. Stupid punk and his smooth-talking. Even with those stupid Christmas puns.

 

*

 

**December 4**

His outfit picture on Tuesday was met with a “ _Sleigh all day!_ ” that made Bucky snort into his morning coffee. His best friend was a dork. And worse: he was in love with a dork.

With a decidedly better mood, Bucky left for work.

 

*

 

**December 5**

**Bucky:** “You’re a dork and your puns suck balls.”

 **Steve:** _“How Rude-olf of you!”_

Cackling, Bucky went about his day.

 

*

 

**December 6**

**Bucky:** “Balls.”

 **Steve:** _“Yule be sorry!”_

Another day, another pun, another coffee ending up in Bucky’s nose.

 

*

 

**December 7**

On Friday, Bucky was so done with the holiday season. You’d think that their product was not something that would serve as a festive present, but apparently vegan condoms were the gift to give this year.

Yes. Bucky’s company specialized in producing and selling fairly traded, vegan condoms. And Bucky loved his business, loved his work, loved his co-founders Loki and Tony, and especially loved when their product was highly sought after.

But that did not change the fact that December so far had been busier than the last half year accumulated and spending increasingly more hours of the day at the office did not much in improving Bucky’s mood.

And normally, Bucky was a hoe (hoe, hoe) for the wintery holiday season. He loved the atmosphere, the songs, the films, the gifts, the food, the time spent with loved ones. He was a sucker for the sentimental atmosphere and ugly Christmas sweaters.

And normally, Bucky would mutate into a Christmas Elf with Steve right there by his side. Alas, his festive co-conspirator was an ocean away.

Therefore, Bucky felt like a Grinch today because of work.

And he missed one blond idiot with a penchant for bad Christmas puns.

Just four more weeks and Steve was scheduled to come back home. A whole four weeks. Bucky thumped his head onto his desk.

Fuck December.

Just then, his phone signaled another one of Steve’s messages, a picture of a snowed in street.

_“Say it ain’t snow!”_

 *

**December 8**

[Voice message]: “Buuuuck. Buuuuucky. Bucky Bear. I miss you! It’s been forever since I’ve been home, I counted! I miss youuu. And your ugly mug. And your stinky morning breath. And my favorite pillow over at your room. Shitty hotel pillows don’t smell like home. Or like you… Also. I miss your dick. Ok, got to go, I have a whole day of schmoozing up to Swiss gallery owners to do. Stuck up bunch.”

An attached selfie showed a scowling Steve in a crisp dress shirt and finely groomed hair.

It was titled “ _Resting Grinch Face_ ”.

 And the cutest thing that Bucky had seen the whole week.

Because all he had seen this week were the ugly mugs of his business partners. And as much as both Tony and Loki claimed they were sweeter than sugar and just overall darlings, they were filthy, ugly liars and could never compete with Steve in the cuteness league.

 

*

 

**December 9**

_“Believe in your Elf!”_

Bucky spent the next five minutes coughing up his morning coffee that had once again missed his esophagus.

Such. A. Dork.

He loved him.

 

*

 

**December 10**

“ _Look at my mistle-toes_.”

And a gif of Steve’s wiggling toes, all dressed up in socks with glittery snowflakes stitched onto them. How was it possible that the toes of a man built like a brickhouse were cute as hell? Bucky’s fingers itched to tickle those toes.

He was so whipped.

Someone help him.

Or make Steve come back.

Preferably the second option.

Definitely the second option.

Bucky spent the evening rummaging through Steve’s closet, looking for the softest, warmest sweater that Steve had left behind. He needed to feel warm and cozy and small in one of the oversized monstrosities that were just tight enough on Steve to show off his muscled biceps and broad shoulders that tapered down into a deliciously tiny waist. And practically hugged his pecs. Steve’s glorious pecs.

 

*

 

**December 11**

On December 11, Bucky nearly chocked on his own spit when opening Steve’s latest holiday message.

It was once again a picture. A selfie of Steve sucking a goddam candy cane to be more precise. Like, actively, full on sucking – cheeks hollowed, plush lips pursed, big blue eyes smoldering into the camera.

_“I love when candy canes are in mint condition.”_

Bucky dropped his phone onto his work desk like it had burned him and frog marched out of his office towards the nearest bathroom. Making sure he was alone, Bucky let out a soul-deep groan. Hands hovering over the zipper of his pressed slacks.

That was Steve’s dick-sucking-face that probably burned a hole into Bucky’s desk right now from how hot it was. He knew that face intimately and he was man enough to admit that he was conditioned to react to Steve’s pursed lips and that look in his eyes in one certain way, and one way only: popping a boner, harder than that dumb candy cane that Steve was sucking instead of Bucky’s dick.

Bucky was a very sexual person. Sue him. And Steve could play him like a violin in bed and apparently even remotely from another continent. 

“God dammit!” Whining, he clutched the marble countertop of the sink with both hands. Afraid, where they’d end up if he loosened his grip.

He held an executive position in one of New York’s fastest growing start-ups. He was used to holding elevator pitches under high level pressure, his brain worked best under stress. He was a successful 28 year old businessman that collected seed money from Business Angels and other investors on the regular.

Sure, their business plan was based on dicks. They wouldn’t be where they currently were without dicks. But as sexual as Bucky was, his dick was still a private matter.

And still. There he was, locked into a public restroom. Debating if a quick wank at work was acceptable.

Deciding against pushing his slacks down to his knees. Willing down a throbbing erection caused by his best friend slash best friend with benefits slash love of his life.

No. He would not steep so low and rub one out where anyone could overhear him moaning out Steve’s name like a lovesick idiot.

That he was, in fact, a lovesick idiot and completely gone on Steve was neither here nor there.

It took him twenty minutes to calm down enough to return to his desk.

The way Loki sprawled in his office chair across from Bucky’s desk and smirked at him, he wasn’t quite as inconspicuous as he would have liked: “You’re making your Steve face. Not the besotted, lovesick one. But the ‘fucked six ways from Sunday’ one. Oh, to be the NSA agent tasked with monitoring your phones.”

 

*

 

**December 12**

So Bucky may have been ignoring Steve since the Picture of Doom the day before. It had been 24 hours without Bucky contacting Steve in any way. That was the longest they had gone without talking for the last few years – and not because of lack of Steve trying.

Bucky’s phone had been lighting up the last day with various notifications from Steve messaging him on WhatsApp, Instagram, Snapchat… even Facebook. Who even used Facebook anymore? Bucky even forgot that he had the app installed on his phone.

And now this. Steve’s revenge for ignoring him. A picture of him licking the godforsaken candy cane from hell.

_“It’s not going to lick itself…”_

He was really testing Bucky’s composure.

But God beware he strategically retreated into the bathroom once more, he could feel Loki smirking at him.

If he was looking up flights to Austria for the next day, no one needed to know.

 

*

 

**December 13**

On December 13, Bucky received an early Christmas gift: his favorite picture of Steve so far.

Not that he didn’t love the cursed candy cane pictures from the last two days. Sexy, teasing Steve would be Bucky’s demise someday. But that had nothing on today’s picture.

“ _Candy cane wishes and mistletoe kisses.”_

It was Steve, in a cozy looking, white sweater, looking warm and cuddly. Cradling a cup of hot chocolate and curled up on a windowsill, staring out into a white winter wonderland. His blonde hair tinted gold in the shine of the roaring fireplace behind him.

If Bucky zoomed into the picture and pressed a soft kiss onto Steve’s soft looking cheek, no one needed to know. Except for Steve.

 **Bucky:** “I miss you. Wish I was there with you.”

 

*

 

**December 14**

Steve answered him the next morning: _“I’ll just be hanging around the mistletoe. Waiting for you.”_

It was accompanied by another picture taken of Steve in the white, oversized sweater. He was sitting in front of the open fireplace, staring longingly into the flames.

Or at least Bucky liked to imagine the faraway look in Steve’s eyes, the slight wrinkle between his expressive eyebrows, and the softly pursed lips added up to a longing gaze. Preferably longing for Bucky, that is.

Smiling softly, Bucky stroked over Steve’s golden glimmering hair. He really hoped Steve was thinking of him when the picture was taken. Hoped that Steve did long for him as Bucky did for Steve. That Steve loved Bucky not just like a brother, like a best friend since childhood.

But that he was in love with him, so head over heels in love that any second not spent together let the world appeared grey and dreary.

Perhaps they should have had one of those relationship talks before Steve went on his European tour. Or maybe they should have had it when Bucky once and for all quit dating other people and committed himself to only ever having eyes for Steve.

Or maybe they should have talked about their relationship with each other when they started sleeping together in their early twenties and never really stopped until now that they were in their late twenties.

Or perhaps it would have helped if they had talked when they started kissing each other in their teenage years under the guise of practicing.

All that Bucky could do now was wondering what they were. Only friends? Friends with benefits? Lovers? Partners? How did Steve see their unspoken arrangement?

What would he say if he knew that the candy cane sucking picture was Bucky’s favored material in his spank bank right now and that he had come five times already in the safe enclosure of his shower since receiving it?

 

*

 

**December 15**

_“I put out for Santa. And you.”_

At least today’s picture answered a few questions for now. Because friends that were strictly friends did not send their platonic friends or friends they never planned to hook up with again pictures like that.

There was Steve, or rather Steve’s peachy bum, his broad back and a devious smirk staring back at Bucky. Steve’s briefs were pulled down below the swell of his butt cheeks that glowed golden in the warm light of a dimmed bedside lamp. Those two butt cheeks that Bucky had spent hours buried between.

Whining to himself, Bucky zoomed in on the bum of his dreams, grabbed the lube from his bedside table – candy cane flavor for this season – and settled into his bed. Because a Saturday spent wanking to the image of Steve’s ass was a Saturday well spent.

 

*

 

**December 16**

The next day was even better.

It was another naughty picture and this one would surely make his spank-bank-top-10. The camera was angled to show the broad, chiseled expanse of Steve’s chest and the delicious swells of his pecs, down to his sculpted abs, zeroing in on his hard dick lying in the v of his hips, steadily drooling with one of Steve’s big hands wrapped loosely around it.

_“When I think about you I touch my elf.”_

Nothing in this world could have stopped Bucky from shoving his hand down his own pants after seeing this picture. Not even the worst Christmas pun to date.

 

*

 

**December 17**

So Bucky was having an existential crisis. Not only that the last 10 weeks caused some serious separation anxiety for him. No, today their Senior Sales Manager for the European Market (fuck Tony and his penchant for corporate job titles with capital letters), Brock douchebag Rumlow, saw it fit to chime in his own five cents about the Stucky relationship as Loki had dubbed it.

Bucky had whined to Loki in their break room about how much he was missing Steve and how cold the bed was without his human furnace there, especially now with the colder weather fast approaching. And how they hadn’t defined their relationship yet.

And Rumlow, having overheard the last bit, had sneered while filling up his coffee cup.

“That big beefcake is fucking his way through Europe right as we speak. And no offense to you, Buckster, but he’d be dumb if he didn’t. But I’d be willing to warm you up, your ass doesn’t look half bad in those slacks!”

And with a sleazy wink, left a gaping Bucky standing there.

“He’s so fired. Don’t listen to him, Bucky. I’m so firing his ass. And suing him. That is sexual harassment. Who even hired that scumbag?” Seething, Loki pulled him into a tight hug, before storming out of the break room. No doubt about to scare their HR department into drawing up a termination contract and yell at their lawyers to build a lawsuit.

But Bucky really didn’t care about either right now. The asshole and his crude accusations hit right home, right into the mess of insecurities and swarming thoughts that had been plaguing Bucky for weeks now.

He really should have fessed up to his feelings and sat Steve down for a long overdue relationship talk.

Bucky could only stand there and stare at the far side of the room, empty mug cradled in his hands. Thoughts racing. When his phone signaled the incoming of another on of Steve’s holiday greetings, he had lost half an hour staring unseeingly into space.

It was another picture. A heart drawn onto the frosted glass of a coffee shop window.

 _“I really miss you. It’s snow joke!”_  

*

 

**December 18**

Bucky hadn’t answered Steve’s texts for two days.

To say that he had kind of worked himself up would put it mildly. His mind was one big “he loves me, he loves me not” since Brock fucking Rumlow had decided to rain on Bucky’s sexting & pun advent calender parade and essentially doused him in cold water.

Because really. What did he know about Steve’s time in Europe? Sure, he got regular updates on big meeting and the galleries that wooed Steve to exhibit some of his art there. As not to say, he knew Steve’s schedule by heart by now. But you could text an awful lot without having to verify the content of those messages.

And those cuddly sweater pictures sure did look cozy and not much like a work engagement. More like a lovers’ romantic evening in. Bucky would know because it looked just like their standing holiday season dates.

Could it really be that Bucky had been replaced as Steve’s holiday spirit buddy slash partner for languid, drawn-out winter sex with soft touches and pressed close together under heavy duvets?

What did he even know about Steve’s feelings? For all that he knew they were just best friends with best benefits and he had been the only one stupid enough to catch feelings.

So Bucky was not in the best of moods today and his Christmas spirits were all but exorcised. He had actually growled at Loki at lunch time when the other man’s phone went off and had Last Christmas blaring as his ringtone. 

He couldn’t even bring himself to open Steve’s Christmas message and put it on unread.

_“Last Christmas (and the very first and every one between them) I gave you my heart.”_

 

*

 

**December 19**

_“You had me at ho, ho, ho.”_

December 19 brought another picture sent by Steve. It took Bucky ten hours to finally work up the nerve to tap it to see it enlarged. And damn did that one hurt.

There they were. The both of them, barely three years old and decked out in Santa hats and cozy red sweaters. They had their stubby little arms wrapped around it each other and beamed at each other, chubby cheeks bright red from cackling.

It was not like Bucky could actively remember that day. But the story behind the picture was one of their mothers’ favorite ones to share when they all got together now and again. Winifred and Sarah had thought it a cute idea to do joint holiday greeting cards with a picture of both their boys, dressed festively and just being their adorable three year old self.

To make Steve and Bucky look at the camera, Winifred thought up some silly story about how Santa would bring special gifts for special little boys if they smiled for the camera. To make it more believable for the small boys, she imitated Santa’s “ho, ho, ho”.

And Bucky, only ever focused on Steve as he’s been for nearly three decades, turned to Steve and tried to imitate his mother’s “ho, ho, ho”.

Both toddlers broke out into hysterics, cackling and screeching “ho, ho, hoe” for the whole afternoon.

Even today, it made them grin at each other like loons. It was just their thing.

 

*

 

**December 20**

_“You’re the jolly to my holly.”_

Another picture of the both of them dressed up for season greeting cards. Again bright red Santa hats and warm, woolen sweaters. Again their arms wrapped tight around each other. 

Only that they were 15. And a few hours later, they shared their first kiss under a sprig of mistletoe that Bucky nicked from his mother’s decorative door wreath.

 

*

 

**December 21**

_“There’s snow place like home.”_

And another picture of them in their Santa hats. This time with some Christmas sweaters that read “ho, ho, ho”.

They had taken it at 22, shortly after moving in together. Making a real home for the both of them.

And Bucky was a mess. A crying, hysterical mess.

Just the thought of Steve moving out of their shared apartment, erasing the emotional and physical intimacy that they had built over the years… moving on with a partner, a girlfriend, a potential husband… someone that was not Bucky…

 **Bucky:** “I miss you.”

Nevertheless, Bucky called off another night out with Loki. He was not keen on finding out, what an alcohol addled brain could concoct in terms of unhappy endings.

 

*

 

**December 22**

On Saturday, Bucky came to a conclusion.

Bucky, investor’s darling and business school graduate that he was, took a step back to review his data and looked neutrally for causalities and correlations.

His findings were that for one, it helped no one, least of all Bucky himself, when he stressed about Steve’s whereabouts, who he was with, and what he was doing that he might not have told Bucky about while he was on the road. Or when he finally returned home. So Bucky needed to have that talk and chill out.

Secondly, the only one losing sleep over the various alternate universes in which Steve had found his true love that was not Bucky – was Bucky. There were no tangible indications that Steve was currently seeing someone else. So Bucky needed to have that talk and chill out.

And third: crying over spilt tea aka the relationship talk that never happened wouldn’t yield any results either. So Bucky needed to finally have that talk and chill out.

Fourth and most important finding was: he was in love with Steve, he wanted to spend the rest of his life with the other man, and he would do anything in his power to at least sit the pair of them down to talk about their relationship. Also, he wanted to climb Steve like a tree until arthrosis and rheumatism of old age made such climbing impossible.

And then another picture came through.

_“Jingle my bells.”_

And that one definitely put Steve on the naughty list for this year. His screen showed Steve snapping a picture in front of the mirror. Buck naked (hah). Grabbing at his balls. Smirking at his reflection.

All rational thoughts that were in the process of developing immediately handed in their leave for the day in the face of those long, muscled legs, tiny waist, and deliciously perky pecs.

The awful Christmas pun filled Bucky with warmth that was not only emanating from his dick, but his heart as well. He was so fucked – but in the completely wrong way.

 

*

 

**December 23**

Sunday had Bucky still reeling from the developments of the week.  First there was that endorphin rush thanks to Steve and his amazing sexting abilities. Then there was Rumlow and the bitter reality check of Bucky’s ignorance. Then there was that trip down memory lane that only helped to drive the point home that Steve was the only one for Bucky out there. And then back to one mean endorphin rush thanks to Steve’s body.

And overall the strong longing for having Steve back home. Missing his warm, deep voice. The tiny crinkles by his eyes when he smiled at Bucky. Missing the way that pencils littered every flat surface of their apartment, sketches and drabbles flying loosely around the living room.

_“Up to snow good!”_

A smirking Steve greeted Bucky on Sunday morning.

If Bucky wasn’t still busy obsessing over the logistics of getting dumped when you were not even officially together but essentially led a married live, he would have taken a second to stress over that new picture.

Because in nearly 30 years, a smirking Steve had never boded well for Bucky.

 

*

 

 **December** **24, Christmas Eve,** **Evening**

Some days, Bucky would confidently claim that Loki was one of his best friends. Not his bestest best friend, because that would always and forever be Steve. No matter where they stood once he was back in town. Because even if the rest of their relationship was up for debate, their friendship would hopefully survive each and every hurdle. Of that, Bucky was sure.

Nevertheless, most days Loki was a good, reliable friend. Pushing him out of his comfort zone, challenging him to become a better version of himself, and having his back along the way. So much so that the both of them (and Tony, never forget Tony because god beware you ever forgot about Mr. Fragile Ego) went and founded their own business.

Today, he was not so sure if he’d really call the other man his friend at all.

Bucky vehemently did not want to go to their company’s annual Christmas party on Christmas Eve. He had planned to burrow himself under a mountain of blankets, watching every awful Christmas movie on Netflix, drinking hot chocolate, and just generally feeling sorry for himself. And maybe re-visit those candy cane pictures. Sue him.

He could have pretended to suffer a case of a sudden and explosive stomach flu. No one would have asked questions. No one would have cared anyway if he was missing.

But no, Loki could out-stubborn Steve which is why Bucky was dressed up in a really, really ugly Christmas sweater and in a bar that was all decked out in red and gold Christmas decorations. Ugh, Tony and his damn color scheme.

Also, Tony and his dumb puns.

His sweater was a deep wine red with a golden, glimmering writing across the chest: “Gangsta Wrapper”

“You know, Buckaroo, because we provide wrappings!” Cackling, Tony had thrown identical sweaters in Loki and Bucky’s faces and was now prancing around the bar in another one of those atrocities.

Making his way over to the bar, Bucky sidled up next to Loki and glowered at the other man.

“Well, well, well. Look who made it!” Grinning, Loki clasped Bucky’s shoulder and pulled him into a hug. “You’ll not regret it!”

“We’ll see about that!” He grumbled in answer and flagged down a waiter to order a Cranberry Gin Tonic. That was as Christmassy tasting and looking as he was going to get today.

The cucumber was even gut in the shape of a little Christmas tree.

Two drinks in, he was sandwiched between Loki and Tony, enduring a sheer never ending round of “executive” selfies.

“Stop that glowering and smile like you know Santa’s coming tonight. And with Santa I mean Steve!” Jabbing his elbow in Bucky’s ribs, Tony took another picture.

Before Bucky could ask what the other man meant with that, the bar music quietly playing as a background noise cut abruptly off and an overly loud rendition of the opening notes “Jingle Bell Rock” sounded from the speakers.

Cringing, Bucky let his gaze wander around the bar: “What the – “

He was cut off by Tony and Loki hooting shrilly and grabbing at his arms.

“Come on, James! Don’t be a Grinch!” Smirking over his shoulder, Loki pushed their way through the throng of other guests that had congregated towards the small stage at the back of the bar to position them in the front row.

Two male voices rose above the low murmur of the crowd and the music playing loudly.

“Snowing and blowing up bushels of fun…”

Then the singers stepped onto the stage.

And Bucky’s heart drummed up a staccato rhythm. His pants grew a little tighter than originally planned.

And then there was Steve. Steve who should still be in Europe. Steve who Bucky had called Steve many things over the years.

“Reason for his untimely demise caused by a sudden re-distribution of blood in his body that deprived his brain of oxygen over an extended period of time which in turn resulted in just straight up checking out of this existence” was not something he had used previously.

Nor had “boyfriend” made that list until now.

But maybe, just maybe, the fact that it was Christmas Eve and Steve was here and not where he should have been, meant something. That Steve who may or may not be Bucky’s boyfriend was here and singing the “Jingle Bell Rock”.

And. Oh my God. Doing the Mean Girls choreography.

Including the thigh slap.

Bucky was going to die.

There was Steve, right in front of him. Dressed in a tight, very tight red sweater, the cuffs lined with white fake fur. And a neckline that could not even be called plunging anymore. Also lined in that white fluff that caressed Steve’s pecs.

Bucky was so going to die.

His gaze trailed down the long expanse of Steve’s body, over his trim waist to his long, muscled legs, clad in the tightest pair of white pants Bucky had ever seen.

A clever turn in the choreography at “Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock“ let Bucky appreciate Steve’s pert bum in those tight pants.

Bucky’s poor heart was going to give out. And Steve’s knowing stare that pinned him to his place right there in the front line told him, that it was clear to see for the man in question as well.

He was vaguely aware that Tony beside him was excitedly hollering and jeering Steve on, and that Loki had gone oddly rigid on his other side, and that there was another man up there with Steve, dressed just like him – dancing and singing with him. But Bucky only had eyes for Steve.

And right when Gretchen kicked the CD player in the movie, the song cut off as well. The other burly man left the stage, and then it was only Steve up there. In his white pants and fur-lined sweater. Bucky’s wildest dreams rolled into one.

Huh. Did Bucky develop a Christmas kink over the last four weeks?

Anyway. It was only Steve up there on stage, gluing Bucky right where he stood with a hooded, hot gaze.

And then. The opening notes of “All I want for Christmas” by Bucky’s queen Mariah started up. His one, true Christmas song love.

And then. Steve started singing. While staring at Bucky.

Having the guts to sing to him that he didn’t want a lot for Christmas and there was just one thing he needed. That he wanted him here tonight, holding onto Steve oh so tight. Singing it and actually meaning it.

Bucky gulped heavily. That relationship talk was so overdue.

“Santa won’t you bring me the one I really need?”

Steve’s low, warm baritone wrapped around Bucky, his voice embracing him like Steve’s arms used to do. All Bucky could see was the blond man up on stage, everyone else around him fading away.

Seemed like Bucky did indeed have a Christmas kink.

His heart was thumping heavily, beating against his ribcage so hard as if it wanted to just jump straight out of his chest and up to Steve on stage. Mechanically, he rubbed his sweating palms along his ugly sweater and plucked at his collar. Had it always been that warm in the room?

“All I want for Christmas is you, baby. All I want for Christmas is you, baby.”

While the last notes still rang in the air and the whole bar burst into loud cheering, clapping, and hollering – Steve stepped down onto the main floor and headed straight for Bucky. Bucky who was rooted in his place.

“He’s coming for you, Buckaroo!” Tony had grabbed his shoulders and was hysterically shaking him, before cackling and diving into the crowd still crowded around them and jeering.

Loki clapped him once on the back: “He really wants you, Buck. Now pull your head out of your ass and tell him you love him!”

Bucky could only nod, but not look over at his second best friend. Because his best friend, his oldest friend, the love of his live… was now standing right in front of him.

Steve was right there, in all his plunging neckline and fake fur glory, his blue eyes glittering in the low lighting of the bar and a soft smile playing over his lips. He slowly reached up, cupping Bucky’s cheek: _“Buck, all I want for Christmas is you.”_

Then, ever so slowly – giving Bucky time to pull away, as if he’d ever do such a thing – Steve leaned in and softly pressed their lips together in a kiss that made Bucky tingle all over.

Steve was finally home. And he would never let him go (figuratively speaking of course).

 

*

 

**December 25, Christmas Day**

When Bucky woke up on Tuesday morning, it was with Steve’s strong arms wrapped around him as if they’d never let go. Smiling to himself, he basked in the afterglow of the previous night, when his blinking phone caught his eye.

Carefully so as not to disturb Steve, he reached over to his nightstand to make a grab at his phone. But apparently he had moved a little too much because the arms around him tightened and Steve grumbled unhappily into the back of his neck before nipping the delicate skin there.

A delicious shudder raced down Bucky’s back that only intensified as he unlocked his phone and was greeted by another one of Steve’s Christmas messages.

It was a picture of the both of them, taken just a little before Bucky had woken up. In the picture, he was cuddled against Steve, the soft morning light and the feeling of being back in each other’s arms making them both glow. He was still asleep, face bedded on Steve’s chest.

Steve in turn was bright eyed, beaming down at Bucky. A soft look in his eyes and the hand not holding his phone up to take the picture was cradling the back of Bucky’s head, stroking the silky dark hair.

_“Are you Christmas? Because I want to merry you!”_

And if Bucky cried a little when he forcefully rolled around and pressed his “yes” against Steve’s lips, no one but Steve and him needed to know.

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you liked it, I'd love for you to leave kudos, comments, or reblog the [fic post](you-had-me-at-ho-ho-ho-by-alittlewicked) over at tumblr :)!


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